3. Then a horrid discovery in the washing machine -- youngest son's juggling ball. The ridiculously expensive one he worked all summer to buy. "It's ruined!" he screams. I ignore his implication that this is my fault (even though he actually blames his brother) because with children, everything from pimples to poor grades to nuclear proliferation is my fault.

4. After laying the wet juggling ball in the sun to dry, we manage to get out the door so I can drive said youngest son to school. After he leaves the car, he turns to me and says six grumpy words: "I left my lunch at home." For some reason, I know this, too, is my fault.

5. Back home, after walking the dog, feeding both pets, making phone calls, cleaning cat vomit off the carpet and resisting the strong urge to take a nap or slam back a mojita or BOTH (but not in that order), I eat son's forgotten lunch -- surprisingly good -- ignore the large pile of dirty laundry and even larger pile of unpaid bills beside me and begin writing.

Nothing like teenage kids to make you question if really is your fault. Maybe it something that we did or did not do in the child rearing process when they were being potty trained that screwed everything up. All I know is that since my daughter has been driving (1 month) she has managed to scrape the side of my truck, break off a mirror, ruin the clutch, bang up a bumper, mess up the hinges on the hood and break the shifter. Miraculously none of these things were her fault!!!!!! Sorry but you have few more years of "its your fault". The good news is you can start to laugh at them and they will start to laugh with you about it the fact that "IT IS YOUR FAULT".